


We Ain't Never Getting Older

by MuchAmused



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean's POV, F/M, Making Out, One Shot, POV Dean Winchester, Sexy, Sexy Dean Winchester, Song fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 18:32:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18816634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MuchAmused/pseuds/MuchAmused
Summary: After years apart, Dean spots you in a bar. He’s determined to rekindle the flame for old time’s sake.Inspired by “Closer” by The ChainsmokersOne Shot.Song fic.Dean's POV.





	We Ain't Never Getting Older

 

It’s the tattoo that catches my eye. I know that tattoo. From across the bar I know it. One glimpse of the intricate design on her shoulder and I’m instantly transported back to a time when the world didn’t feel so heavy.

I’d spent half a summer in Tucson a few years back. Half a summer was like an eternity for me, but it had flown by like a breeze that teased, coming and going too soon in a hot as hell desert.

My mouth goes dry, my throat instantly parched at just the memory of those heat-filled nights that had nothing to do with the triple-digit temperatures.

I quickly finish the whiskey in my glass and turn to face Sam, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I gotta go catch up with someone,” I say, gesturing with a nod in her direction.

“Are you coming back tonight?” Sam asks, following my gaze to where she’s sitting with her back turned to us.

I raise an eyebrow and say, “God, I hope not.” Sam rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning in spite of himself as I walk away.

She’s on a stool, a few girlfriends on her right side. I briefly consider waiting to see if she’ll separate from them at all before approaching, but then I notice the way the black material of her sleeveless top clings to her flawless skin, how her hair has gotten even longer since I last saw her.

God, I know exactly how it feels to run my fingers through it. I wonder if she’ll let me do it again.  

By now my feet have carried me right up to the bar, and I step up in the space to her left.

I lean my hand on the counter and call out to the bartender for a drink, which has her turning her head in surprise to look right at me, just as I’d known she would. Her eyes widen right along with a smile that spreads across her pouty lips.

Those lips. God, they’re just as shiny and full and tempting as I remember. I’d bet my left arm they taste like strawberries.

“I’d know that voice anywhere,” she says slowly. She does a once over of me with her eyes that’s slow, deliberate. I don’t mind. “Hot damn, Winchester. You haven’t changed a bit.”

I return her smile, gazing into those honey colored eyes. Those eyes that are still capable of burning right through my cool exterior, making me feel vulnerable and excited all at once.

“How long has it been?” I say as the bartender sets down the drink I ordered. “Three years?” I slide the drink over in front of her, earning another one of those smiles. It’s her favorite, and she knows I haven’t forgotten.

“Four,” she corrects. “But who’s counting?”

Me. I am. But apparently so is she.  Four years too long. Even if nothing long term could have ever worked between us. Even if that length of time hasn’t diminished the fact that I still remember how those full lips feel against mine.

Her friends are watching us - me - and she glances over at them, saying, “Girls, this is Dean. Dean, this is everyone.”

I flash my best killer smile and say, “Hey everyone. I had to come over and say hi, but I don’t want to interrupt, so I’ll let you get back to-”

“Don’t be ridiculous. We’re just blowing off some steam. If I remember correctly, you know a thing or two about that.” She pats the stool next to her. And I’m in.  "You working a case?“

“Just finished one, actually,” I say as I sit. “With my brother.” I point to where Sam is sitting across the bar and her eyes follow out of curiosity. “What about you?”

“I’m a deejay now,” she says. “It keeps me busy. Keeps me on the road a lot, actually. Something else you can sympathize with. But I have the night off….” Her eyebrow arches just slightly, and damnit if that wasn’t an invitation. I meet her gaze, and in that moment I want nothing more than to feel like the man she thinks she’s looking at again. “Want to go for a ride, for old times sake?”

She can still read my mind. “Why the hell not,” I say. She grins, seals those pouty lips around the tiny straw to sip her drink. Then she turns to her friends to explain that she’s leaving as I drop some cash on the bar.

She takes my arm. I haven’t had a girl hook her hand in the crook of my arm like this since, well, her. I remember now why I like it so much. “I have a new ride I want to show you, but you’re driving it.”

I always drive. I always wonder how I’m going to stay on the road with her looking like she does in the seat next to me, but I’m up for the challenge. For old times sake.

I pull the Impala keys from my pocket and toss them to Sam as we walk past him. He’ll be less pissed at me tomorrow now that he won’t have to call a cab or walk back to the motel.

She leads me through the parking lot, my boots clapping on the pavement, and hers sounding like a softer echo of the same, until we’re standing in front of a big black Range Rover.

“Seriously?” I ask.

“Why not?” She dangles the keys in the air for me.

I take a breath and hold my hand out, palm up for her to drop the keys into.

Next thing I know I’m driving us down the road. In my worn jeans, tee, and button up I look and feel totally out of place in this giant shiny, expensive box of a vehicle.

Then I gaze at her, sitting there in the passenger seat, looking like an edgy million bucks, and goddammit if she’s not the bridge between worlds.

She’s messing with the stereo system, which looks like it could just as easily control a spaceship as the music, but she looks right at home there. Just like I know she looks and feels right at home when she’s naked and pinned beneath me.

“Where do you want to go?” I ask, more to guage her reaction than because I need a destination.

“Does it really matter?” She glances over her shoulder at the backseat and adds, “We have all the room we need.”

I’ll be damned if I don’t like this giant, expensive box a whole hell of a lot more now. I wet my lips with my tongue, grip the steering wheel a little tighter, put a little more pressure on the gas pedal as we near the edge of town, lights fading in the rear view mirror.

My heart jumps a little when her hand lands on my thigh, her nails dragging lightly along the denim. Other things would be jumping, too, if there was room in my pants. I take a deep even breath, because I am going to keep my cool, damnit.

She rolls down the window on her side, and I’m catching glimpses from the corner of my eye of her shifting, moving in her seat, but I don’t realize exactly what she’s up to until her black lace bra lands on the dashboard in front of me.

My head snaps to the side, but she’s just gazing out the window, her hair blowing with the wind, a smirk on those pouty lips. The bra trick is the sexiest thing ever, and having it lying there in front of me while I drive just makes me hyper aware of the fact that her slinky little black top is the only thing between me and her supple skin.

“I hope this thing is fully insured,” I tell her. “You keep on like that, darlin, I can’t promise we’ll make it far.”

She looks right at me, staring from under those long lashes, and I hold her gaze until I’m forced to glance at the road again. She reaches over and takes the bottom of my tee shirt in the fingers of one hand, hitching it up slowly until I feel her hand on the sensitive skin on my abdomen.

I see a dirt road branching off the highway ahead and I slow down, taking it. A mile down that road and she’s on her knees on the seat now, leaning over and nuzzling my neck, her hand dipping down into my tee shirt.

She rakes a fingernail across my pec, lightly grazing my nipple and I have to bite down on my lip to keep from moaning.

I’m already slowing down, but then her tongue dips into the hollow of my throat just below my jaw, and the moan escapes anyway. So much for playing it cool. I slam on the breaks, skidding slightly on the dirt road, but she either doesn’t mind or doesn’t notice.

She’s too busy holding either side of my face and turning it so she can lock those gorgeous lips on mine. Strawberries it is, soft and warm and smooth, and I barely manage to reach over and put the car in park. I run my tongue along her top lip seeking entrance, and she grants it, fingers in my hair now while I lick, suck and taste her mouth.

But I can’t even angle my body toward her right, so I open the driver’s side door while we kiss. She keeps moving with me - again with the mind reading thing - as I swing a leg out and start to climb out of the vehicle.

We’re attached at the lips, and I grab her ass, supporting her weight and pulling her against me. She wraps her legs around my back and I’m slamming the door closed with one hand, moving forward until her back is against the side of the SUV.

She takes advantage of the leverage to push my button up over my shoulders, and I shift a little, putting one foot up on the step rail to rest her weight on my thigh. This frees up one arm at a time and she helps me shed the extra layer.

I kiss down her jaw, slowly drag my lips along her skin across her collarbone and find myself hovering above the intricate design of that tattoo on her shoulder. I nip at it lightly with my teeth, sucking on the skin.

“You could have called,” she says, a little breathless. I straighten and gaze at her, at the way the moonlight falls softly, shadows accentuating the angles of her face.

“You too,” I tell her.

“Would you have come to see me?”

I nod. “Yeah.” It’s the truth. I’ve missed this. Missed her. Which reminds me to taste those lips again, and I cover her mouth with mine.

Her legs are around my waist now, and she hooks her ankles together. I pull back long enough for her to get the back door open with a hand, and then I’m setting her down on the edge of the back seat.

Her fingers are in my hair as I stand between her legs. I groan against that mouth of hers, done playing it cool. My hands slide just beneath the fabric at the bottom of her slinky top, thumbs brushing against her skin lightly.

She mimics the act, hands going to the bottom of my tee shirt again, but she’s edging it up, fingers slowly exploring until she’s traced a ragged pattern up my middle. She’s rough enough to let me know she’s in this, but still let’s me hold the reigns. I take my hands off her just long enough to pull the shirt over my head, letting it fall in the dirt.

Her gaze is liquid, honey-colored heat, and I take her foot in my hands, slowly slipping the high heel off and setting it on the step bar. I do all of this without taking my eyes off hers, and then do the same with the other foot. She scoots backward in one swift motion, making room on the leather seat for me to climb inside.

My boots and socks are discarded in a hurry. She’s just sitting there, leaning against the opposite door. Her long legs are bent at the knee and resting against the back of the seat, her chest heaving in anticipation.

I climb inside, stalking forward on all fours, and she puts her hands on either side of my face, kissing me with a hunger that I rise up to like a challenge. She missed the hell out of me, too. I’m about to remind her why it was insane for her to leave in the first place.


End file.
